Starcraft - Blackout
by MegaAuthor
Summary: A Dominion Capital Ship lost communication with the rest of the fleet in a Protoss airspace. A team of Marines are to investigate the reason why. They are also being ordered to retrieve an experimental weapon on board the Dominion Capital Ship. What could possible go wrong?


**Disclaimer:** Halloween season is here! And I'm here with a Sci-fi/Horror genre to Fanfiction! (Insert creepy laughter here)

Horror genre is something new to me, as I have never did one before. Hopefully it won't be a genre which I'm going to grow accustomed to, as I'm much more comfortable under Romance, Adventure, Action, Sci-fi, Fantasy and Mystery. In order to get some idea, I had to draw inspiration from all horror shows, games and creepypasta which I have been avoiding it like a plague, like the Paranormal Activity, the Insidious and Carrie. Big shout out goes to Ju-on, which still haunts me today.

The fanfic is on a first person view, inspired by the game First Encounter Assault Recon or F.E.A.R as it is well known. That game is like the combination of any FPS games (fight soldiers in a tightly space corridor) and encounter ghostly, nightmarish girl which in turn inspired by the Ju-on horror flick according to the developer. Every time you are in a dark, solitude area or hallway, you will inevitably encounter her, most often appear at the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of her, or literally appear right behind you! The game even acknowledge the level of stress your going through to the point where the character your playing as has heavy breathing and heavy beating heartbeat, shaky camera and panic fright. It was a terrifying experience, but for the sake of this fanfic, I push on, getting scare jumps to true terror.

Now if you excuse me, I'm going to rebuilt what remains of my humanity.

Starcraft belongs to Blizzard Entertainment

* * *

**Starcraft - Blackout**

My name is Keyes V. Flickance, Lieutenant of the 122nd Dominion Marine Corp, 18th South Sector Company, 7th Delta Squadron. Criminal records - 56 separate murders across world's; 3 of my victim happens to be some backwater Marshall in some planet I can't even pronounce. A dozen robbery - 9 bank heist and others are train hijacks. Grand Theft, mostly military grade gear like them Siege Tanks. Multiple counts of assault against both the Confederacy official and that prick from the Son of Korhal before he got himself killed by that Queen of Blades. Err... oh, and a rape case. Been hold up on New Folsom since the great war and are now charged to death sentence by serving my sorry ass for the Dominion Marine Corp. Never got myself that neural thingamajig in my brain, probably because they install a detonator in my suit. Not my problem though. I still have my thinking box unchain, and that's good enough for me. Serving that f-up Emperor dirty little boots like I'm some kind of hound. Probably still is if he would stop yanking my chain and feed me good grubs. With all that said, I'm probably have a greatest job in the universe, going around killing shit left and right, not feeling a little remorse over my action, that kind of grid, right?

Fuck that noise; you have no idea what I've been through, and you ain't going to enjoy it either if you're in my shoe; one moment you are send to the laboratory for some science-gone wrong experiment, the next you'll be shooting your Gauss Rifle down to the last clip as your a brain dead pals keep on getting their ass sliced to half by the Protoss, getting devoured by the Zerg or under heavy crossfire against the other team of Marines in a bloody free-for-all buffet style battlefield. Did I mention I was send here to die? Well, if I know one thing about Death, is that he is very choosy who it is that is indeed worth collecting. I'm not one of 'em. At least, not now. I'll probably be shaking his hands the next time I've been send to some death mission. I actually looking quite forward for it.

So there I was, in my cell (they lock my power suit with a detonator that could blow up two rooms around me and has a nerve to cell me?) watching some good old fashion porn flick. Nothing much to do, other than to go to the bar for a drink, and meet more weirdos and assholes from the far reaches of the Koprulu Sector. Food at the cafeteria taste horrible, reminds me of roadkill Zergling. I'm not allowed to go to the armory though, probably thought I'll be taking that Thor unit for a ride. Can't fault them; I probably will take that piece of machine for a spin.

Anyway, the top brass of this fine ship radioed me; a job he said. Another death sentence more like. Anyway, reaching his office was a pain in the ass. Dragging myself to his office along the way, brushing off a few Dominion loyalist who thinks they are living a good life. Nothing to say about that; they were brainwashed by propaganda and false promise of riches, and see me who knows the Dominion dirty set of laundry like the back of my hand didn't just agitate them, it makes me feel dangerous. Can't blame them when I'm this awesome. Anyway, I stop just outside of the top brass fancy office who seemed to have sport himself with his ridiculously long name (seriously, who named him Captain Admiral Flixichushel Tyraates the Sixteenth? Half the time I can't even pronounce his name, let alone write it on paper) bolted at the door. A knock or two later the door slides in respond, allowing me to gain entry. This top brass dress himself like a king, with badges, medals, pin decoration, the lot in his fancy office, drinking some fancy liquor with that fancy secretary and a fancy blonde Ghost Agent.

"Ah, Convict. Glad that you are here. The Emperor deemed you _unworthy_ and has send you to your death countless times, and yet I see potential in you; an untapped reservoir of skills. You interested?"

I said nothing. My present here was uneventful thus far. I was hoping the cheesy talk is over and he would just send in to my death already. So naturally I snarl.

"Ah, wonderful! The Convict just snarl like a rabid dog. Wonderful indeed!" the top brass officer laughs. If it haven't for that detonator and that Ghost, I would have strangled that man right where he sat.

After a long, boring monologue about himself, Mr. Long Names with a fake accent has the balls to asked me and a team of screw up member to check out some Dominion Battlecruiser that had gone suspiciously quiet near a Protoss airspace, said something about an experimental psionic weapon. Big surprise. I've watch so many movie to know where this is going; we go in, entire ship got slime by them Zerg buggers or some shit ass Protoss rush-in because some dumb ass decide to steal them khaydarin crystal or an ambush by another Terran pirates, probably being paid big at stealing some kind of gizmo and gadget the Dominion had been cooking up. The top brass keep on yapping his mouth about the Dominion Battlecruiser, the equipment, the emperor's interest, and that failure means death. All I wanna know is how much I'm getting paid in this shit hole.

We depart as soon as possible; I guess not everyone are as straight forward like me - can't a man die after they spend some credits at the nearest strip club? Hang out some chicks who adore muscular man like me? In a power suit no less? No? This is so brain-pan boredom. I wasn't paid enough, I said.

That is... until I realize I'm still technically am still on my death sentences list under Mengsk's Top 10 most wanted person to disappear from the face of the sector. This Raynor guy is probably second from all I know. Well, at least I ain't that chick at the top list; that honor goes to the Queen Bitch of the Universe.

Anyway, me and my stupid crew of wannabe veteran troops board the Hercules Transport Shuttle and flies straight to the Dominion Battlecruiser named _Twilight_. Who the flying fuck name a Dominion capital ship _Twilight _is beyond me. Oh well, might as well enjoy this slow silent trip while I'm at it. Chances are, I'm going to die today... or live for another boring cycle serving that Emperor.

Did I ever tell you the name of the capital ship rode by that long name captain? No? Good, because that name is so darn long it feels injustice just to tell you all that craps. If you think that Captain Longname... Extended name is bad enough, his capital ship's name is twice as long. _TWICE._

* * *

"Let's see," I said as I gaze my boring eyes over the men, "15 Marines, 8 Marauders, 6 Reapers and a couple of Ghost."

One of the men, a Marine, stare back to me, "You got a problem with that?"

"Well, duh." I answered, "No field medic. How are we going to get through this grand mission without accidentally shooting our own foot? Has any of our CO thought of that possibility?"

"Well, no," one of the Reapers reply, "But I sure love me some ladies whore going gaga after this mission."

Reapers are crazy, I can tell you that; the type where their aggression are as high as a Marine being addicted to stimpack for over a year and more while off duty. They are so high they could probably fly without their jetpack, and high enough to jump off a cliff with the word death spell out in capital letters. The type that rot their sorry brain into a pink smoothie for them Zerg to slurp up after hanging out with the wrong company.

My kind of companion, "Girls, chicks, whore, whatever - they need to be banged, if you catch my drift."

"Well, not to be rude and all," one of the Marauder soldier joins in, "But we kinda... sorta have a female Ghost agent with us."

"Ain't going there, Big M; them fucking TEEP are Mengsk little playthings; a weapon rather." I quickly point out, "You start fucking with them, they'll start fucking you up to 11."

"Heh, you said that as if you had experienced with them," another random Marine join in.

"Let's just say I pissed off the wrong crowd," I declared, followed by a sweet sigh, "Best piece of sweet ass I've ever bang by the way."

The crowd of Marine, Marauder and Reapers unit all gave a rather positive laugh, which I join in too. I could swear I felt a heavy thump on my head, but I digress.

We can see the Dominion Battlecruiser _Twilight _coming into view from our tiny monitor to the lower right. It just... floats there, no lights, no damage, no respond. Probably the ship ran out of juice, which is impossible; how the hell can a Dominion Battlecruiser loses power, when the capital ship has 4 separate Fusion Reactor cycling one another? If it's a leak, the capital ship could have easily rip to two under massive complication. How I know all about this kinda stuff?

Well, let's just say I have the honor to blow up one of 'em Battlecruiser before serving as a Dominion hound; lid up in the sky and billions of debris shower the world - most beautiful thing I've ever seen, tears were in my eyes that faithful day.

"_This is Hercules Transport ship pilot to you meat sack in them locker room; I'm just going to drop you off here so I can get the fuck out of here; this place is getting too quiet for me liking._"

"Your ain't going nowhere, unless your willing to betray the orders given to you." a mercury-cold voice reply the Hercules pilot - obviously its the Ghost Agent. "You will stay here until further notice."

The Hercules pilot sigh, "_If I die, I'll kill ya_" he mumble.

"Well ladies, get your gear and weapon ready," I declare, "This mission ain't going to finish by themselves, get your ass out of there and kill whatever it is out there!"

The company has the enthusiastic of a 10 year old, all screaming, shouting and grabbing their guns and gears before rushing out of the ship as if the damn ice-cream truck is waiting for them; fucking immature, all of them. All except for them Ghost Agent - they were too cool to hangout with the stupid group. Not that I would complain. Diversity among the group is important; one has to be a meat sack that soak bullets, and another are to live though the day and praise as a hero.

All of us took up defensive cover as soon as we got out of our ship, you know, standard military bullshit procedure. It was really, really silent in this Battlecruiser. No welcome party whatsoever. The place is devoid of anything except for an eerie dark corridor with dimly lid lights. Normally I like the silence treatment, but when a capital ship meant to house 50,000 personal gives you the silence treatment, the silent becomes notoriously loud. Wasting no time, I told the men to start deploying some Auto Turret and sensor array near our transport ship.

"Is this normal for a capital ship to be this silence?" asked one of the Marine, a little slow to know the situation in hand, "I mean, it's a freaking Battlecruiser, with 50k personal. Doesn't that mean something?"

"My thoughts exactly," I reply, "Something's not right about this. Let us finish up this defensive structure before we venture out from our safety zone."

No one question my motive to set up a small defensive zone near the transport ship, and with good reason; if shit hit the fan and we're caught in the middle, all we could do is to retreat here and either bunker down or make our hasty retreat back to the nearest fringe Dominion colony. Personally, I sense a bad vibe in the air, and the air smells of blood - usual combination where Death is giving off its usual pheromone that he's here.

Did I mention how I really hate my current job? Let me rephrase that sentence; I hate my job.

"Okay, here's the plan, Team A," I pause, highlighting 6 Marines, 4 Marauders and a male Ghost under my command list. All of them are quick to notice their designated selection from their power suit and gear, "Go to the bridge and scan for any sign of life. I want that command bridge secure."

"Roger that."

"Reaper team," I address them quickly, "You'll be Team B; I want you all to scout the entire ship, search for any survivor in this ship. Kill anything not Terran."

"And if the hostile forces are Terrans?"

"If they shoot back, then you can kill them - how hard is that suppose to be?"

"So... an armed survivor of this ship is also deemed hostile?"

I facepalm at that comment, "Oh for the love of... Just get out there and do your job."

I swear to god I heard a snort, followed by a short chuckle from the Reaper team.

I switch my view to the rest of the team, "All of you, we're going to the engine room. Hopefully we'll encounter something other than a burst out generator of any sort. I want a report at any finding every 5 minutes."

No one complain under my command, no surprise there; I've outrank everyone in this misfit team, even the Ghost Agents. Probably because those two are still new, freshmen, fresh meat. Tasted blood but never with dirt and mud as extra flavor. Smell of burned metal and smoke but never flesh and rotting corpse. These Ghost Agent are still green, and I can see them as it is. Unlike Marine though, they can still be very jumpy at things that they aren't meant to fully understand.

No time to idly around and monologue myself, I lead the team to our designated target.

* * *

The team and I march slowly down the engine room, passing the cafeteria, the gym, the cabin, all of them are empty; devoid of life. Not even the robotic drones can be seen around here, especially when the drone's primary protocol is to ensure that each facility is spotless. Why did I brought up robotic drone you might asked?

Well, for one thing someone sure enjoys painting the wall and the floor with blood red. Some of the men clutches his stomach, trying not to throw up his insides on the floor. I grew accustomed to such incident. Hey, I'm a murderer, a serial killer no less, but this one takes it to the extreme.

"This is Team C to all team units, looks like someone is busy with the decorating."

"_This is Team B to Team C, reporting as requested, let me guess, blood red?_"

"Correct - whatever did this is not human... and not Protoss or Zerg either."

"_Team B here, how can you tell?_"

"Elemantary my dear Watson," I reply, sounding all Britain-like, "If it were Protoss, we could have seen chuck of rotting flesh on the ground, with a hint of burn flesh and neatly sliced chuck of meat and metal. If it were the Zerg, then they must be so hungry to devour whatever they kill, which is very unlikely."

"_This is Team A, nothing worth reporting back, though our Ghost Agent here is complaining about some kind of psionic disturbance. We'll be at the bridge momentarily._"

"Wait, Team A!" I quickly bark them over; psionic disturbance usually means bad news, and I have experience with all occurring psionic incident ranging from the High Templar Psionic Storm to the fable Mind Control. I quickly scan the name of our Ghost Agent, Aleo, "Aleo, what disturbance did you experience?"

There was a short pause, but he reply before I could repeat my question, "_It's... It's fade, but I hear... Crying, children crying, on the walls and the ceiling, on the floor we stood on. It was fade, but a cry no less._"

"How is that a psionic incident?" I asked

"_Well Lieutenant, have you seen a ghost before? A real, honest-to-god ghost?"_

I roll my eyes, "Son, I've seen shit that can turn white man whiter than the snow on Braxis. I've seen plenty of ghost, or ghosts for that matter in my dream, people I kill came back to me and haunt my memories. So yeah, I've seen ghost, but never the actual floaty, Overlord-style ghost."

I can hear Aleo heavy breathing from the intercom, his status condition, especially his heartbeat is beating faster than any of us who are listening to the channel, "_Well... Just a moment ago, I saw something that the team did not saw, a child, emitting some kind of psionic ripples around him, stood at the distance. He has a white shirt on and a red splash from the collar down... then..."_

"Aleo?" a voice called from behind me, the female Ghost Agent, "That's just an illusion, your just seeing things; did you pop another stimpack while I wasn't looking?"

"_I'm not high and what I saw was real!_" Aleo shouted from the intercom, "_There is something in this ship and it is not friendly. My psionic interpretation never lie, and whatever down here is neither Protoss nor Zerg!_"

Okay, I gotta admit, ghost? An honest-to-god ghost? The Poltergeist? What is this, a team of 10 year old kids playing Space Ranger in Hammerwar 51K? Get real, ghost don't exist, and the only ghost I can physically see, and kill are these two morons; one thinks he just saw Casper the unfriendly ghost and another thought he is as high as the Reapers themselves. I swear if I gotta-

"_Team B reporting! Possible contact!"_

_"Where?"_

_"Down here! To the left!"_

_"OHHH YEAHHH! HIT AND RUN!"_

_"Wait, this is a dead end. Carlos, how many shot of Stimpack did you had today?"_

_"Err... 13?"_ a pause_, "I kinda lost count afterwards."_

"Jesus Christ man, what did you see?" I asked.

"_Not sure._" a reply, "_But I'm pretty sure it was a boy, white shirt, splash of red from the collar down..._"

"Carlos, if you think this is funny, I'll-"

"..._and no visible legs..._" Carlos ended.

There was a long silent afterward, and for some reason, the hair on my back stood up to the end; okay, I'm not getting comfortable at all in this mission. What in Koprulu's 9th Sector did that long name top brass officer just send me to? I clear my throat, and speak with a sounded tone with authority, with a hint of fear, "Team A, get to your mission objectives. Team B, finish with your reconnaissance mission. We're going to finish this mission no matter what. If you guys see something, anything not normal at all... open fire."

* * *

The team and I walk further down, the stench of blood has now permanently cling into our power suits and the ventilation didn't help at all. The further down we go the stench intensify, and the blood... Oh, there is so much blood here, sickeningly so; it's like a damn river down here. Enough to make Satan and Lucifer bath in it in all its glory. Did 50,000 personal came down here and die? Unlikely scenario, but I don't want to stay here for long to read the entire chapter on how this Battlecruiser turn into something I normally use to scare kids in the middle of the night. The entire team is jumpy as well, "Team B, did you check the route we are traversing earlier? It's like someone forgot to clap the main water hose down here. Except it ain't water we're traversing."

"_No clue sir, but things here is getting creepily scary," _Team B reply, "_Lights in the sector keep on bloody flickers on and off. The man didn't like it here."_

_"Team A here, we've reach to the bridge." _a pause, followed by a collection of gasp. "_Oh my god."_

"Team A, report status." I immediately respond after that last message, "Is something wrong at the command bridge?"

"_Ugh... god, that is... My god..."_

"Come on Team A, description, details, words, anything!"

"_There are body parts, entrails, organs, hearts, liver... It's all over the damn bridge... And... My god... Most of these organs seemed freshly gut... Hearts... Those hearts is still pumping out blood..."_

There was absolutely no word coming from me which is absurd; I'm the only member here with the most experienced and I have no fucking clue what the fuck is going on here. Still, gotta keep the man to remain calm; the faster we finish this bullshit job, the sooner we get out of this ghost ship, "Team A, get yourself together and do exactly as I say; torch the bridge. I don't care how you do it, blast it with your Gauss Rifle, burn it to a crisp, hell, I'll settle with a nuke as well, just to be damn sure. I want everything cleansed."

"_Wha-what do you mean, everything?_"

"EVERYTHING!"

"So... What about the rest of us?" came one of the Marauder soldier, his bio signature status shows a lot of fear - the man is shaking inside his reinforced heavy armour.

"We're still have to check the engine room and get the rotor starting. After the engine reroute, the ships emergency system should kick in, probably enough juice to send in a S.O.S signal. Not that I really care if the Dominion wants this ship anyway; I just care getting the ship powered up just so we can retrieve this experimental psionic weapon. Remember; this is now a retrieval mission; there is no survivor, and even if there is, its bound to be hostile. If there isn't any, then we are not fucking alone. We are now on a 'shoot first and ask question later' basis; you see anything that isn't right, just shoot to kill."

"_This is Agent Aleo from Team A, permission to speak sir?_"

"Granted."

"_What happens if our weapons are insufficient to down the enemies?_"

"Then we are royally fucked." I reply, followed by a long sigh. The hair on my back stood high up still, and generally I just want to run back to the rendezvous point and save my skin. The troops behind me look up with admiration, my bravery, even though in my eyes I share the same thing they bear; fear.

* * *

Leading the man down to the engine room soon took a short pause as we have reach to the armory, where all the biggest, meanest weapons are stored. Unfortunately the armory heavy gates are reinforced neosteel with 12 crisscross locks - standard anti-breaching gates. No amount of explosives can break this door open, which is a shame; our primary mission lies behind this door, and without power, the door stays idle. For some reason, I can hear a fade sound beyond the door, like someone is sobbing just behind this door. A survivor? No - my suit has a built-in sensor scope, and it detects no living lifeforms beyond this door. Perhaps it's the exhaust pipes gusting out from one of ventilation? I digress completely.

As my team move forward on, the other teams either accomplish their goal or finish patrolling. Good for them, I told them. Team A gets to return to our rendezvous point and Team B gets to circle another round, in smaller groups this time. Not my grand idea though, it was a veteran Reaper name Darious who wanted to cover more ground. Didn't care much, so I let him do it anyway since we're here in a fucking Battlecruiser, which is haunted I might add.

I keep telling myself there is no such thing as a ghost. A Ghost Agent, yeah I believe that one, saw one too, got a few lucky kills even, but a real ghost?

Hell no.

So what in all the mother of curses is that in front of me?

A young boy, barely at 10, white shirt, splash of red from the neck down... And no legs... I maybe repeating that phrase, but there is one description which the team fail to mention; its jet black eyes, blood for a tears and- holy fuck it's coming right at me!

I scream in a ferocious roar; I quickly replace my fear with absolute anger - my weapon open fire at the unknown entity, my team did the same, firing their weapon down to the last clip. Gauss Rifle nail the surrounding area, K12 Punisher detonated, we even had the Ghost Agent fire an EMP just to be sure. Whatever it was, it was gone; none of our weapons nail that thing. My heart pump at a ridiculous rate.

5 seconds. Years of Marine training taught me to quickly replenish my depleted ammo from my Gauss Rifle. Standardized within the Marine Corp, as it is our priority to ensure our guns are well feed to open fire another round at our enemy. It works, so long as you have your buddy covering fire for you against a swarm of Zerg rush or the incoming angry Protoss Zealot.

8 seconds.

It took me 8 seconds to reload my gun. 8 seconds. That's not normal. I'm trembling inside my suit. Fear grip firmly in my heart; I can hear it so clearly as my beating heart pumping in non-stop. God, I need a cigarette - no, a stimpack. No, no! Stimpack are bad! Cigar! I need a fucking cigar! Cigarette works fine too!

I eventually pump a stimpack into my blood system, giving me a boost of adrenaline rush and increase aggression. Didn't help much, but I fucking needed it. Oh well, no harm done.

* * *

The man is getting really jumpy now, the Marines tremble and crackle as we move, fingers itchy to pull the trigger at the first sign of danger. Our big brother, the Marauders, are just as jumpy as our gun-tolling Marine, frantically looking at their blind corner every so often. The female Ghost Agent seemed to be under control, since she didn't show any sign of intimidation, but her vital sign says otherwise. The silent grows louder despite that our power suit are the only thing in this long corridor that is making the noise. The stench of dry blood and foul odours assault our nose, forcing us to shut our visor down to filter the stench. Even so, the foul odour still manage to sips in into our power suit, though not as offending as it previously was. The man and I continue to push forward.

It wasn't long when Team A arrive at the rendezvous point, only to find our Hercules pilot missing. Aleo keep insisting that the ghost boy had something to do with it, but I dismissed it, even though I fear it may well be true. I order Team A to hold the rendezvous point until further notice. Team B reportedly saw something floating above their heads a number of times but no matter how many lights are shine upward, they got zero visuals. Damn, even the hardcore psychotic murdering Reapers are seeing shit that could wet their pants, and those guys sees shit everyday.

We encounter that ghost-boy again, but at our least expected approach; it appear just as we turn to the corner before the ghost-boy vanished as it walk... I mean, hover through the wall. A number of our rearguard Marine jumped at the notion that the ghost-boy just walk through the wall, and they frantically turn around only to have them catches glimpse of the ghost-boy - AT POINT-BLANK NO LESS. The marine obviously scream, open fire their Gauss Rifle, but did nothing to hurt this haunting spirit other than to add more holes on the wall or floor.

Look at me; haunting spirit? I'm getting too involve in this supernatural shit. God damn it.

It took a few more minutes to reach to our destination, and when the sign 'Engineering Bay' flicker at the ceiling, we thought all our hopes are finally answered with a flip of a finger. However, upon arriving an inch away from the automatic door which leads us to the room, foul stench of rotten flesh and blood intrudes my nose almost immediately, even with my visor tightly shut. I quickly alerting the team to halt and proceed with extreme caution. The team takes defensive position on the wall and four out of seven Marines decides to be our rearguard (they are shaking fiercely in their power suit) and the female Ghost Agent stood at the front of the door, standing side by side with me. She - what's her name, Maggie? Cute name, for a Ghost Agent - is as eager as I am to find out the secret of this mysteries happening in this Dominion Battlecruiser. Luckily the engineering bay's door isn't lock and powered, so opening the door isn't that problem; it's what's behind the metallic door that worries me.

* * *

"Okay..." I huff, taking in a deep breath before coughing out aloud - completely forgotten that horrible stench, "I'm going to open this automatic door now. Get ready for anything."

Everyone tense up, fingers at their trigger. My finger slowly approach the switch at the side, making physical contact with a confirm click.

The automatic door swish aside as commanded.

Followed by a loud wailing that make everyone jumped.

The wailing did not stop, and it's coming from within thecengine room. Peeking inside was the first mistake I did. Because someone is staring back at me, nose to nose.

I scream, fall onto my back, crawl on my back followed by a lot of cursing.

The team didn't find it hilarious, because that 'someone' is dead; decapitated is the word that floats in my mind.

And that is not the only head in the room.

The entire fucking engineering bay is decorated by the decapitated heads of the crew, men and woman alike. They'll have this horrifying shock expression marked all their face, like they saw something that shouldn't belong, and paid the ultimate price. The man just stood there, unable to move and unable to tear their eyes away from the horror silhouette they are witnessing ... And it gross out a number of Marines. I heard one of them mumble one of those Holy Bible phrase; didn't know which - religion isn't my strongest point, I usually just ditch it and forget about the damn thing, my mind marks all religion type bullshit as _nonessential._

Damn it, now I need my own copy of Holy Bible in my hand.

"Okay... Okay," I said slowly, eyeing the Engineering Bay with someones or somethings sick sense of humor. I'm now convinced that there is something not completely right in this mission. "Team A and Team B, this is Team C. Report in."

"_Team A reporting, nothing so far, other than the smell and the loud anomalous silent."_

_"This is Team B1, this side is clear, heading back to rendezvous with Team A._"

Two team report back, but Team B2 didn't make a beep. "Team B2, report."

Static.

"Team B2, report in, now!"

More static.

"God damn it Team B2! I have no time for your-"

"_Daddy?"_

I froze, everyone who heard that reply over the intercom channel froze in place as well. That reply sound like a child, over the radio frequency. I gulp, think nothing of it, "Team B2, you had better stop your prank. Give me status report now."

"_Daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy dad-"_

I shut the frequency up, purge the channel. Cold sweat roll down my temple, cheek and neck; What the fuck? As quickly as it happen, I begin setting up a more secure frequency channel, "This is Team C to all active teams, I'm now setting up a secure channel. Please confirm."

"_Team A, reporting in, we read you loud and clear, can we get confirmation on what just happen?_"

"_Team B also report in. What the burning hell it going on?"_

"I don't know, and I sure don't want to stick around here any longer; Team B, investigate what just happen to the other Reaper team. Team A, move your ass to the armory. Once we power the ship up, you go in and grab that psionic weapon thingy. I want an update every 5 minute and no less!"

"_Roger!_"

I turn and look at the men who followed me thus far; they are all shaken, trembling in their power suit, their knee almost give in; the Dominion Marine Corp are train to deal the deadliest threat on the Koprulu Sector, from the Zergling to the Ultralisk, Zealot to the Colossus. They are the bread-and-butter of the Dominion force.

...And they are not train to deal with this kind of fucking threat. What's next, the Old God Cthulhu?

Wait, don't answer that.

Entering this god-knows-what-happen-here hallway is very much self explanatory; the entire hallway is nothing but a lot of decapitated heads mounted on the wall, save for the ceiling. I did not have the courage to look up, even though it is dripping red blood down to my power suit and weapon. The others cursed silently upon discovering what it is on the ceiling. From what I can filter out from the other Marines chat box, the body is chain, bound and impaled by something, clinging the bodies on the ceiling, strip from their uniform and lay on the ceiling naked. The mental image of the body on the ceiling immediately smack into my head, and as a mass murderer myself, I'm loss of any word to express my opinion. I kept my focus ahead, only to gaze at the blood stain floor and the decapitated heads mounted on the wall that is reflecting the horror from their blank gaze to us. Despite bringing along those who are brave enough to venture in, including the female Ghost, the feeling of terror is overwhelming. I trained my Gauss Rifle at my surrounding, my eyes keep fixing onto the decapitated heads decorated on the very hallway wall, having a pure paranoia that the heads are staring back at us.

And the wailing... Dear god, the wailing did not seize; the closer we got to the engineering room the louder the inhuman wailing becomes. The hair on the back of my hair stood up as high ad it goes, my heart feels like it's on overdrive, pumping faster and faster. Goosebumps is the word, and I don't like that feeling at all; it feels so foreign, so new to me, which is ridiculous since I've fought thousands of Zerg Swarm, brave through the Protoss forces, and survive a crazy crossfire between rival Terrans. I didn't feel fear through those events, just a massive rush of excitement and adrenaline rush.

I still hate my job though.

"_Team A reporting in,_" the sudden transmission makes me jump; I swear to god my heart must have skip a beat, "_We have reach the Armory. We're seeing a ton of crazy shit down here, none of them are good. The situation is still dead silent._"

"_Team B here, found what remains of the other Reaper team."_

"What's become of them?" I asked.

"_Err... It's kinda hard to explain... Logically..."_

"Try me."

"_O-okay,_" a gulp can be heard, "_The other Reaper team seemed to have... Err... Fused into a wall on both side."_

I blinked, confused, "Fused into a wall? How on Earth did that happen?"

"_Well, we're quite confuse ourselves, but I think they were sandwiched by the wall... Except the fact that the walls on this hallway are a few meters apart and there is no way the wall could come apart and sandwich the team without said pressure mechanism. Reaper Carlos is checking one of the walls now, and he gives a solid confirm there isn't any pressure mechanism in this particular hallway._"

_Or they could have been torn apart... By something_, I thought silently.

"_Whatever it is sir, this team of Reaper ain't going anywhere._"

"Are they dead then?"

"_That's a solid confirm._"

My eye shift to the squads bio-signature and read it's status, "Then why am I reading the recently deceased team signature to be alive?"

"_What?_"

Those were the last word I heard from the intercom; what follows were a lot of screaming, shooting, cursing, wailing, moaning, and laughter.

Laughter. Children's laughter.

Dear god. What. The. Hell.

"_DADDY?" _

I quickly shut the intercom down, that cursed innocent voice is starting to get into my nerve, and not in a good way. I turn around to look at my squad.

No one.

Seriously? Did those guys just drop whatever they are doing and run for it?

Shit.

* * *

I switch to Team A intercom channel to get in touch with the team, but they did not respond my call. Switching back to the remainder of Team C and they are lost as well. In my frustration, I angrily open all available channel, barking command in a fitting anger.

"All unit! This is your commanding officer! Who told any of you to desert your rank?!"

No answer.

"God damn it man! Don't make me come out and kill the rest of you lot! You are messing with the wrong Marine, you spineless Dominion cowards!"

Still no answer.

I make no afford to do another threatening speeches, and knowing what's going on around here, I might be next. Should I desert my mission as well? This mission is beyond salvageable, this place is beyond comprehension. No wait, I believe there was a word from the ye old Earth about this. What was it called again?

FUBAR. Yeah, that's what this mission is, FUBAR. Fuck-Up Beyond Any Recognition.

Unlike my spineless comrades, I actually have something that makes me special among the rest of Marine deployed by the Dominion Marine Corp. Far better than 100 Marine with neural inhibitors implants.

I never give up.

* * *

I march forward further in, with my weapon in hand as my only companion in this crazy, bizarre quest. The wailing did not stop, the ominous screaming soon join the fun, followed by a creepy laughter of childrens. Fear grips ever so firmly in my heart, but with a pop of stimpack into my bloodstream, that fear is replaces by my lush for bloodshed; I storm forward, running at top speed towards the engine room. Hallucinations begins to take place, the side effect of taking in too much stimpack than usual, mostly some faces that I've previously killed. I dunno why though, creepy 10 year old kid scare the living fuck out of me, but these bastard which I've killed before? Why, I think I'll do the universe a favor and start killing again.

Wow, would you look at that; the hallucinations of my previous target is helping me. How ironic.

I've reach to the engine room, but the door won't budge. I can feel something eerie coming from behind me, bad, bad eerie things. It is screaming at me, shouting at an inhuman shriek. As I struggle to get the automaton door open, I felt a cold wind blew into my suit, and without a warning, I felt an equally inhuman tug from my shoulder, yanking me a few steps backward. Something really didn't like me getting too close to that engine room, but that only influence me to proceed onward.

Despite that my power suit is heavy since it was build to last and are used to combat extraterrestrial forces, I'm still blown away by the ominous strength that kept me from getting too close to the door. I could feel the ice cold grip on my power suit (which makes no sense), tugging me away from my objective. It feels like I'm inside a category 5 hurricane, and the only thing that stops me from being fling to the back was my suits fortitude. A sinister chuckle quickly alerts me, a quick turn reveal the creepy ghost-kid playfully skipping towards me.

Wait. That's not skipping. Is that... Is that thing phasing?

Shit.

I am forced to take another shot of adrenaline stimulating chemical into my bloodstream, knowing the dangerous effects of multiple stimpack stimulation intake. The intake pushes by previously limited capability to overdrive, powering my way to the automaton door without submitting myself to the growing threat behind me. I focus at the stubborn metallic door, pulling the heavy metal door to the side hoping that the my power suit are enough to yank it out. The door won't budge, and my hallucinations are getting worse; I can't tell the difference between reality and fiction anymore. Despite the blurry image that disorienting my focus, it comes to my surprise when suddenly the automaton door materialized a face I hate the most - wow, this hallucination really is helping me - and with my hatred I burst the door open with my bare hands. Err... More like my power suit's metallic hands.

Can't stop and think, the engine console is now in front of me, blinking neon lights. Wait, no console in existence has blinking neon lights. What the-

Oh, stimpack. Right. Gotta find that big red button or a big lever. Wait, this is a Battlecruiser; both of 'em are required to be activated. Gotta set my mind straight.

Children laughing, from behind. It's getting nearer and nearer. The wailing did not stop. The screaming did not stop.

Let's add another vibrant shall we?

I hit the big red button that spells 'Start Rotor' and release the lever at the side, soon the roar of engine join the choir, humming my very soul. Funnily enough, the engine roaring is actually louder than the wailing and the screaming.

Perhaps a bit too loud.

"_Battlecruiser Twilight Power Core Operational. Power At 200%" _the familiar voice of the robotic Adjudant echoed throughout the ship sounds heavenly in my ear. _Oh how I miss you, you stupid robot._

Lights flash brightly as soon as I walk out of the engine room, blinding me with white searing light. Ghost-boy wail painfully before vanishing from sight, but the horror has just began, as I soon learn why. The decapitated heads suddenly become alive, staring at me, snarling like an animal, floating a few feet no less. The corpse from the ceiling force itself from its binding and fall to the floor with a loud wet splat before walking towards me like the old Earth movie - a walking corpse, minus the heads.

Now this. This I can kill. Time to pop in another stimpack; this is one killing spree I can do.

* * *

I must have blackout for a minute or two, because by the time I know what I'm doing, I was surrounded by a ton of dead things; eyeballs rolling around, a white noodle-like matter oozing out of the half-blown face and broken bodies riddled by my Gauss Rifle are now chunks of rotten smoking heap of flesh. Even my clad blue power suit is tainted with blood red colour. I shook my head, hoping to shake off any more side effects from the stimpack. As soon as I reload a fresh new ammo into my Gauss Rifle, the Battlecruiser Core Reactor suddenly had a surge; the flickering lights are all there is to tell you the problem the Battlecruiser is currently experiencing.

"_Warning, Core Reactor Meltdown Imminent. All Personal, Evacuate To The Nearest Escape Pod or Available Transport Shuttle."_

Seriously? I just switch you on and now your telling me your going to explode?

Having no time to think but to run, I dash my way out from the Engineering Bay as fast as my legs can carry. The flickering lights makes matters worse for me; every time the light goes off for a second, I could see the creepy ghost-boy behind me, trying to catch up, wailing and screaming in an inhuman manner. As I run to my objectives, I notice several humanoid figure in front of me, shambling towards me. Thinking it was my former comrades, I wave them, my rash voice greets them.

Imagine my surprise when they open fire at me.

Cursing aloud, I jump to the edge of the wall, shielding me from the hail of spike bullets that is threaten to take my head off. My teeth clutches together tightly, seeing two unimaginable objects approaching towards me; one is the Ghost-boy who is phasing towards me with each flicker of light, another are my former teammate who is shooting at me. I took a peak at the humanoid figure, wondering why they open fire at me.

I wish I didn't.

They are not my teammate. Well, at least I think they aren't. The CMC power suit is damage beyond operational; bullet holes dotting the armour everywhere, there is one with a massive gapping hole on its chest, with its organs exposed. The human occupying it looks rather dead, groaning and moaning whenever I open the channel into their intercom. One of them seemed to have a beam stuck inside their helm. The way they carry those Gauss Rifle draws my attention; they are using it like a club, waving around with one arm and not balancing it with the other. No sign of the two Dominion Ghost though.

Looking back and forth from the approaching ghost-boy and the reanimated Marines, I quickly pick my target; rolling from my cover firing off several shots at the reanimated Marine down, the groaning and moaning undead Marines return fire, but their aiming are not align; none of their shots actually hit me even when I'm exposed in the open. My predictions are on the money; unlike the Infested Marines, these poor sods can't fire their weapon without suffering severe weapon recoil, which the rapid fire weapon blast the weapon upward after a good few shots. They are actually as threatening as a lone Zerg creature, let alone an approaching lone Infested Terrans.

Oh god, did I just compare my former comrade-turn undead to an Infested Terrans? That is so wrong in multiple level.

I round up the rest of my former comrade with more bullets, mostly aiming at their arm joint and their leg motor - no point shooting them at their head when one undead Marine attack me with no head to begin with - forcing these abomination creature to crash down under the weight of the CMC power suit. After replenish my ammo from the other fallen C-14 Impaler, I race down the hall much further. The ghost-boy continue to follow me, wailing, screaming inhumane at me.

To my surprise, I found no undead Marauders or Ghost Agent, just undead Marines, and the last patch of walking husk of a Marine are the one I last encountered. I do however found a more disturbing thing.

Humanoid creature in blood red, rose up from the floor, walks out from the wall or crash down with a wet splat moan and groan before shambling towards me. These things is appearing from the very bloody stain across the hallway, and these terror emerge in a horde of red. I fire a few shots, only to realise that my weapon did absolute jack - the spike bullet pass through multiple targets as if I'm shooting through a pool of water - a pool of blood more like. These bloody shambling beings continue to edge closer and closer towards me, forcing me to take a few steps back. I bit my lower lips, _need to get the fuck out,_ I mentally told myself.

My right eye shift, seeing another path which reads 'Administration'. My navigation sensor on power suit indicate that there is a path from the Administration to the Armory. It's a long way, but I would rather take that path than to battle my way pass a sea of red horde of terror - you'll never know what these things might do, and I'm sure as hell ain't going to throw myself in to find out first hand.

Swiftly turning to my right, I race down the metal door, underpowered for unknown reason. In my haste I fire my C-14 Impaler against the metal door, letting my Gauss Rifle fire at full auto. The metal door is weaken by the hail of bullets, but not enough to break apart by itself.

The ghost-boy is closing in, its childish laugh and it's constant nightmarish giggling is hurting my ears. It's black inky eyes seemed to be staring down my soul. Sorry kid, but my soul is reserved to Death itself.

The sea of red humanoid horde are also closing in, almost at arms reach. It wails at me. Wanting me. No idea what this terrifying things wants from me, but all that red drip and thick red ooze is a subtle note.

I jump right at the stubborn metal door, tackling it - I allow the full weight of my CMC power suit to do most of the work. A loud metallic groan can be heard, my power suit system scream as part of my armour are dent. I quickly scan the area before hastily got myself up, weapons at the ready trailing the area for targets. Turning back from where I came from revealed the underpowered metallic door bent inward, and the shambling horrors are tempting to come through. Decided to barricade the door, I set my Gauss Rifle at the side as I begin picking up heavy objects such as cabinet, bureau and metal table and pile it at the entrance door before returning my attention to my weapon. I turn around in a full 360 angle when I saw something ghostly ran pass at the edge of my eye. It took me a while to realise that this Administration area house a well lit office, devoid of blood or death. Still, something is definitely here.

I quickly check my suit navigation system, which points me to another direction on my northwest position. The Administration office is easily navigate, but instead of going around the cubicle like a polite Marine should, I decided to blast my way, destroying and crafting my path to the exit. My C-14 Impaler did its task well, destroying most of the nonessential stuff - at least I think they ARE nonessential stuff - until I heard something click behind me.

I violently turn around, my Gauss Rifle came to bear, fingers at the trigger. My adrenaline rushes to its peak, ready to face whatever horror this godforsaken place has in store for me.

* * *

"Wait! It's me! Don't shoot!" a voice cry out, my trigger finger quickly remove itself from the Gauss Rifle. It was that female Ghost agent. She looks pale.

Well, after what's going on here I see no reason why you shouldn't go white in horror.

"Maggie?" I asked, breathing regularly, "What happen? Why are you alone? Where is the rest of the team? Why isn't your life signature register you at all? Why the fuck did you abandon your superior officer?"

Maggie huff and puff, her weapon's missing, "In that order," she huff, "We got spooked and the team ran for it, I was separated by that red horror, they are all dead, my suit is damaged and lastly we were instructed to leave you to die." she finishes, "No offense?"

"Sort of too late by now." I reply, pulling my spare sidearm for her, "We still need to get the fuck out - this floating rust bucket is going nuclear if we stick around much longer."

She shock her head when the gun is presented to her, "Don't need one," she gesture, "I can psionically push those walking horror by myself, but that ghost-boy is a different story."

"Then let's go," I reply, pointing at the direction where our objectives are, a doorway with the sign 'Armory' on the side, "the further we are from that walking horror the closer we are for getting the hell out of here, assuming both of us can fly a ship that can carry 4 Thors into a field."

"Well, I do have such experience... But..."

"Good, we'll be fine then."

* * *

Maggie and I march towards our objectives, with little obstruction against us. However, when we reach to our destination, the metallic door did not swish aside immediately. The metallic door swish slowly in a snail pace, which quickly worn my patience. As soon as I jam my hands - CMC power suit's heavy hands mind you - into the small opening, the lights flickers again, followed by a childish scream that echoes across the office and a loud crash and thump. Turning around, the ghost-boy is now phasing in and out in synch with the flickering lights - each time the well lid room goes dark, the ghost-boy grew closer. Not far behind that ghostly figure are the horde of red terror made tide, moaning, groaning and roaring towards us, shambling as they go. They manage to destroy the barricade, no big surprise.

What surprise me however is how fast these red terror is moving - it must be the fastest shambling movement I have ever encountered; these red tide of horrors close a huge gap between it and us in a manner of seconds.

Cursing, I let my own voice roar aloud as I force the rusting, blasted metal door to open wide. Maggie looks afraid, but she tried her best to push the red tide of horror back with her psionic push. Just like what she explain earlier, she can push the blood red horrors away with her mind push, but the psionic force did nothing against the approaching ghost-boy. The creepy Poltergeist kid pulls a creepy smile, each end of its lips reach to the ear, complete with razor sharp teeth and blood red drool.

"Ahh... Sir? That ghost-boy is getting a bit too close for comfort!"

"I'M. PULING. WITH. ALL. MY. STRENGTH. DAMNIT!"

Maggie tremble even further, she is getting stress out, I can see it in her eyes. She tear her view from me.

She let out a frightful scream.

The ghost-boy is now at arms reach.

"NOO!" I roar.

* * *

The groaning metallic door finally gave way, causing me to fall flat onto my side. Maggie just stood there, frozen in place, staring nose to nose at the ghost-boy. As I swiftly got up on my two feet, my weapons safely secure under my hand, I quickly pull her arm toward me, tearing her view from the horrid Poltergeist creature. Securing Maggie at my side, I hit the console door at the side so hard it smashed a number of controls on that particular console, causing the metallic door to slam shut.

I let a relieving sigh, taking several steps back away from the door. _That should take care of that floating menace, _I thought.

Then the ghost-boy float pass the metallic door, with that sick grin followed by a nightmarish childish chuckle.

Fuck.

Maggie and I run. We both run towards our objective. The Armory has a ton of weaponry and vehicles, but the damn place has even dimmer light than the chamber before. Almost a perfect condition for that ghost-boy to haunt us.

We both continue running, staring at our directional objectives where it points us. We ran pass some Hellion, Vulture, Siege Tanks, Goliath, Diamonback - Jesus Christ they have a Diamondback here? The technology based on the Confederacy hover tank is here? Sweet Jesus I wanna ride it! - to the mighty Thor unit - oh my freaking god! A goddamn Thor! Someone get me some keys!

"Sir!" Maggie cried over my shoulder, "Now is not the time to think for a joy ride!"

_Damn psionic and them telepathic powers,_ I fume.

"This way!" she continue, which did raise my eyebrow.

"How can you tell?"

"Been here before!"

"Wait, what?"

"No time for an explanation! Just follow my lead!"

I didn't have to open my mouth to know she would know what my question are. _Damn psionic, _I fume, _Well, at least we can get this over with._

* * *

As we continue to press onward, the wailing and screaming did not seize. In fact, it only intensify greatly. The further we push onward the worse the horrid creature is making, as if it did not want any of us to get near. The dimly lid storage got darker as we press on, towards the dark section of the Armory. At first I thought Maggie is running blind, until I saw something at the distance, with a lone light shred above it.

It looks like the fable Psi Emitters used by the Confederacy, only... Well, it house something inside the device. Something that has finally turn my stomach inside out.

A human brain inside a jar filled with liquid is mounted on the device, and the brain is pulsing with life. Several wire is hook up into it and into the machine. My mind begin to race with thoughts, a thousand and one question pop in my mind, each with its own diverse and subsequent question. But one question was the loudest, and the one manage to reach out to my mouth before the rest.

"Is that the thing we're supposed to recover?"

"Yes. That's our mission objective; the experimental psionic and frequency amplifier."

"What does it do?"

"My guess?" she asked, "I'm thinking some sort of psionic attack wave length that could inflict multiple targets within range."

"..." I stare at the device menacingly. I raise my C-14 Impaler at the device general location. My trigger-finger is now playfully tapping the trigger.

"Sir?"

"So in other words..." I said softly, "...this is the device that started this whole shit."

"Yes and-"

"All the more reason to blast it apart." I finished

"No!" Maggie protest, "Our mission was to retrieve the experimental weapon back to Emperor Mengsk! That was our orders!"

"And what? Let the other alien faction or our own to taste the same shit we just experience? The Protoss has nothing to fear for something as trivia as psionic hallucinations, even if one of it can kill people! The Zerg has no fear whatsoever; they are a hive-mind creatures! This weapon only works against the Terrans, whose mind is still thinking about luxury life when a shit load of monstrous beings comes knocking at their doorstep, ready to tear their face into a new one! This is no weapon Maggie! It's a sick, fear induced sentry tower for all I know, able to manipulate and control corpse and carcasses! For all we know, that brain inside that tower is that ghost-boy that have murdered fifty thousand crew! Including most of our battle brothers!"

"But..."

"Nothing to report, and nothing to see." I finished, "We'll just tell them the weapon is unattainable, and with the ship about to go nuclear, I think it's only appropriate."

I was about to open fire when Maggie let out a horrid shriek. I turn around to see the ghost-boy is now hovering just behind me with a devilish grin.

I quickly place my hand on the device, and the ghost-boy gasp.

Bingo.

"Nice boy," I said sarcastically at it, "Be a good boy so that I won't hurt whatever remains of you."

The ghost-boy hiss.

"Really? You think I won't do it?" I gesture, "See that metal rod over there that looks like yours?"

The ghost-boy hiss even louder.

"Let me demonstrate." I balance my Gauss Rifle with one hand, not risking using both my hand since that thing is so darn close. I aim and pull several control burst against the distance metal rod, and with just a short round the metal rod is reduce to nothingness.

The ghost-boy snarl. _Good, his back down. Time to get off this haunting ship._

"Maggie? Maggie, where are you?"

"Here," she reply, hiding behind the experimental weapon.

"Make yourself useful and plant a C8 charger on the device, will you?"

"But..."

"WE. ARE. LEAVING." I said loudly, telling her to get a hint.

"...Fine" she reply weakly.

* * *

As Maggie and I back away from Armory, holding the C8 remote detonator in front of the approaching ghost-boy and it's demonic 'minions', both of us slowly but surely heading towards the docking station where our ride is. The automated Adjutant let out a warning regarding the reactor meltdown, "_Warning. Reactor Meltdown Imminent. Please Proceed To The Nearest Escape Pod Or Transport Shuttle. ETA; 10 Minutes."_

"10 minutes..." I mumble, "Can we ran for it from here?"

"...Perhaps." Maggie nod

"Right; RUN!"

We run, running at our peak speed possible. The ghost-boy wail and scream inhumane at us, and it's minions decided to chase us down. I just run, running for my life as if a pack - no, a swarm - no, a horde of Zerg Ultralisk came running at me and the Ghost Agent, ready to tear our flesh into a new one. Glancing my back a few times is enough to give that impression to be true.

We reach at the docking area in record time (3 minutes!) where the Hercules Transport Shuttle is waiting for us idly. I scream Maggie to get in and start the Hercules up while I start the sentry guns back online. The sentry guns booted in no time flat, and as soon as it did, the first monstrous flesh of meat are quickly blown apart. Then another.

And another.

And another.

More of those unholy horde of terror came shambling towards us, but the sentry guns around the Hercules perform its task wonderfully. I beam a wide smirk, only to have it diminish when the ghost-boy came phasing in. The sentry did not register it as an enemy, or perhaps, couldn't lock onto the vengeful spirit as a valid target.

"Sorry kid," I said, pulling out the detonator, "...but your work hazard."

I press the trigger hard, followed by an explosion and a painful inhuman scream. Almost in synch. The ghost-boy seamlessly vanished in a puff of smoke and the walking horror collapse at the same time.

"_1 Minute Remaining Before Total Meltdown"_ the robotic Adjutant cheerfully announced.

Cheerfully. That is not a word I would use.

"Maggie, how is that engine coming in?!" I cried aloud.

"Almost ready!"

"Do you even know how to operate a Hercules before?!"

"I commandeer Valkryie, Viking, Wraith, Dropship and Medivac!" she protested, " I've never commandeer a ship larger than a Dropship before!"

"You had better be, or else we're both be nothing but space dust!"

Suddenly, an inhuman shriek quickly alert my sensors. I quickly spin around, only to eyed at the ghost-boy in a more deformed matter. He looks pissed.

Dear god please don't tell me that experimental weapon is tougher than it looks.

The ghost-boy now turned Wraith-like being flew towards me, roaring unintelligible at me. Somehow, it's Wraith nature has a downside; previously the sentry guns could not register it as target, but now it can. Multitude of bullet storm nail the Wraith, causing some kind of physical pain. It roars in anger and pain, growing bigger and bigger.

I just stood there in shock; it got so big it is now reaching at the top of the ceiling. "MAGGIE!"

"Sir, the engine is ready! We can now escape!" Maggie report in.

"_Warning! 30 Seconds Remaining,_" the robotic Adjutant announced.

"Shit!"

I quickly spin around and start racing towards the Hercules open hatch. As Maggie already set the ship a few meters off the ground, I jump and latch myself onto the open hatch before climbing up to safety. The Hercules transport ship edge itself out of the haunted Battlecruiser _Twilight _and flew off to a distance at great speed, leaving behind the wailing and screaming ghost-boy, our supposing mission objective, and the horror.

The nuclear detonation in a distance from where the Battlecruiser _Twilight_ resides are all that is left. For once, I'm glad I got out of that place alive. In one piece no less.

_Better luck next time, Death, _I mock my eternal rival, but with a salute, like always.

"Hey Maggie?" I asked aloud, trying to sound charming, "once you bring this ship to Captain Whatshisname flagship, I'll tell everything about our adventure, m'kay?"

No respond. Probably just nodding to herself. "Well, I'm off to sleep. Wake me up when we get there 'k?"

* * *

Two hours. It took two hours worth of sleep when I heard voices mumbling about, "Is he alive? He looks battered."

"Well, you think Captain Admiral Flixichushel Tyraates the Sixteenth maybe a bit off seeing him alive?"

I immediately woke up upon hearing Captain Whatshisname Freaking Longname Sixteenth Something... something. When I woke up, three beautifully blonde woman in their CMC Medic power suit jerk back seeing me completely conscious. At first I was shocked, but what follows is a relieving sigh. _We made it Maggie. We both made it._

Then what follows is complete scowling reaction; Captain Long Name is here.

"Having a long nap, Convict?" Captain Super Ultra Long Name Sixteenth Something said merrily.

"Like a baby." I reply.

"Fantastic!" he cheerfully reply. _Ugh, I hate him so much. Please just kill me now. _"Sooo... Where is that weapon?"

"Gone kaboot" I reply.

"Gone... Kaboot..."

"Yup; turns out the weapon is so unstable it kills the rest of the team, set the reactor to a state of meltdown and gone kaboot."

"Gone... Kaboot..." he repeat those phrase. His left eye twitch rapidly before his shitty smile turn to a frown.

"Well, whatever that weapon was. It was too dangerous to retrieve it. We did what we can. I feel sorry for the team."

Captain Whatshisname Super Long Something Sixteenth looks seriously pissed, but he quickly calm himself, forcing a very creepy smile on his face, "That's alright. Emperor Mengsk probably didn't have much plan for any of that. But that. THAT. Does not mean I'm letting you off easily. And one that would most likely earn you freedom!"

_Through death no doubt,_ I thought, rolling my eyes.

"A number of brave Division has been selected - such as yourself - will be going on a mission in honor of Prince Valerian. He will lead all you brave soldiers in a field and bring glory to the Dominion Empire in the name of Emperor Mengsk."

"I can't wait." I reply sarcastically.

"Toodles!" he said, happily waving his fingers at me. How the fuck is he the captain of this ship again?

As I stood up, heaving my battered self and weapon, I turn around, searching for that female Dominion Ghost Agent companion. I blinked for a while before I approach to one of the on duty Medic.

* * *

"Excuse me, beautiful."

"Err...yes?"

"I couldn't help but to wonder where my partner went, perhaps shes now in the capital ship?"

The on duty Medic just stare blankly at me, "Err... Are you high sir? We did detect a number of artificial fluid within your circulation system."

"Huh? I'm asking a serious question."

"Oh," she said blankly, "I'm sorry, but you are the only one on board the Hercules Transport Shuttle when we found you. The ship was on autopilot throughout the journey."

"What? But... I..."

"...Anyway, Captain Admiral Flixichushel Tyraates the Sixteenth wants you to prepare for your next assignment." she said sweetly, "If I were you, I'll take my time and enjoy a good meal; it's very unlikely you'll be back after this."

"Oh... Uh..." I just blink, "Where is this operation held at again? The one with the Prince?"

"Zerg Core World, Char - the Prince is mounting a grand offense with the rebel pirate Raynor's Raiders."

I don't know what to ponder to - the fact that Maggie, the Dominion Ghost Agent help me in death, or the fact that I'm going to Char. After what happen to me mere hours ago, I hung my head back, let out a frustrating sigh. My mind mentally cursed itself, repeating every word I could think off in a split seconds.

"Any last word you want to make?" the beautiful female Medic request.

"I hate my job."

* * *

**Starcraft - Blackout END**

Done! Now I can return on the Starcraft AU fanfic for a well deserve final chapter and an Epilogue! Have a spook-tacular Halloween everyone! Please Read and Review!


End file.
